


you had me at 'kissme'

by wshxn



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Crush(es)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshxn/pseuds/wshxn
Summary: it becomes so clear to kisumi the meaning behind sousuke’s smile, the depth of light in haru’s eyes, the dulcet longing in makoto’s voice—the very reason why asahi has kept in touch all this time.





	you had me at 'kissme'

**Author's Note:**

> _or_ the four times shigino kisumi “falls in love”, and the one time shiina asahi actually does.

i.

‘you’ve got a crush.’

matsuoka rin, for all his loud guffaws and boisterousness, is a keen observer, and the pink across kisumi’s cheeks at the mention of a certain _yamazaki sousuk_ e gives him away. rin’s gaze from his perch at the top of the slide is both accusing and amused.

‘not funny, rin,’ on the swing, kisumi pouts, clearly in denial. he sits on his hands to keep them from trembling, counting the minutes until snacktime is almost over. ‘not funny at all.’

‘i’m not making fun of you, silly.’ rin slides down, folding his hands behind his head with the widest of grins when he reaches the bottom. ‘sousuke is a great guy. if all goes well, i’ll even support you!’

kisumi covers a giggle with a hand, comfortable for once with the sand beneath his sneakers. ‘that’s never gonna happen.’

‘hmm? why not?’  
  
‘rin! kisumi!’ sousuke shouts from the other side of the playground, a scowl between his brows. ‘we have physical ed next, we gotta get going.’

‘you won’t understand,’ kisumi says under his breath as he watches rin run excitedly towards sousuke, at sousuke smiling unabashedly at rin’s antics a few steps ahead. _because he likes you._

 

 

 

 

  
ii.

kisumi notices how incredibly blue nanase haruka’s eyes are and he isn’t able to look away, for when haru meets his gaze, kisumi thinks he sees the ocean.

introducing himself as an acquaintance of rin had been an excuse to strike a conversation and haru’s aloofness had piqued kisumi’s interest enough to want to befriend the “amazingly fast guy at iwatobi swim club”. in his curiosity he meets kirishima ikuya and shiina asahi, the latter coming in like an angry storm at sea.

‘you have _really_ pretty eyes,’ kisumi blurts out to haru one afternoon over lunch, and the response he gets is a surprised blink and a grunt that could pass as either annoyance or embarrassment—kisumi can’t really tell. ‘has anyone ever told you that?’

‘no,’ comes the curt response. haru’s attention quickly drifts away from kisumi as soon as a taller figure hovers by the classroom door, a gentle smile gracing the lips of one tachibana makoto only for haru to take. something in haru’s eyes bloom like the flowers in his mother’s garden on the first day of spring whenever makoto so much as says his name.

kisumi bites his lip, oblivious of asahi’s endless complaints about their new training regimen. ‘—even listening, you idiot?’

he gives asahi an apologetic smile, urges him to carry on, but he loses his appetite halfway through his homemade bento over the bitter realization that—that _what,_ exactly? he laughs over ikuya and asahi’s bickering, briefly wondering into his juice box how asahi’s hair reminded him of how haru’s cheeks flush slightly at the presence of his best friend.

kisumi pulls asahi aside that afternoon, on the very same day he couldn’t quite understand the knot in his stomach over _makoto-and-haru_. ‘did you ever notice how haru acts around makoto? like he’s literally the only person in the room?’

‘well yeah, but i’ve always thought that it’s just really how they are.’

kisumi blinks, dumbfounded, but he doesn’t think asahi understands, either. ‘huh. maybe you’re right. wanna go get ice cream?’

asahi’s smile is blinding when he accepts, throwing an arm over kisumi’s shoulder— _your treat, okay?_

maybe kisumi will never get to understand haru the way he wants to, because even if kisumi lets his eyes fall on him one too many times in quiet moments, haru has only ever laid his on one person much too close to be pushed away.

 

 

 

 

  
(kisumi has never despised trains until today.

he stands on the platform, holding onto the hem of asahi’s shirt in a poor attempt to make him stay. the sun is just about to rise, and kisumi feels the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. ‘promise me you’ll write me a dozen letters a week.’

‘a _dozen_? that’s too many!’ asahi’s voice cracks, his gaze set on the loosely tied laces of his sneakers. ‘but i—i—’

_i’ll miss you._

kisumi’s lower lip begins to tremble because for the short time asahi attended their middle school, he’d found a friend worth keeping, and yet he’d have to let him go. ‘o-or one would suffice.’

‘hey, d-don’t cry.’ asahi tugs at a lock of pink hair, clearly holding his own tears back with effort. kisumi had insisted to sleep over the evening prior to his departure, and here he was still, begging silently for a change in asahi’s plans. ‘i’ll write you letters, i promise. _i promise_. and tell the others i’m sorry.’

kisumi nods, fingers untangling from the fabric of his best friend’s shirt, his heart aching truly for what would be the first time as he waved asahi goodbye from the platform.)

 

 

 

 

  
iii.

asahi picks up on the second ring of a cool august evening. ‘yo.’

the greeting makes kisumi feel a little nostalgic, a little surprised that he hasn’t noticed how deep asahi’s voice has become over the years. ‘ _a-sa-hi_! i saw makoto today! you remember him, right? he coaches part-time at the iwatobi sc where hayato takes swimming lessons and i’m seeing him tonight.’

‘ _makoto_?’ asahi shouts through the earpiece. _this_ asahi—vibrant and loud—kisumi is all too familiar with. ‘man, i haven’t seen him and haru in ages!’

‘you know you can always contact them—’

‘no! not after what happened.’ asahi pauses, as if contemplating. ‘i haven’t heard from ikuya, either, so there’s that.’

kisumi’s grip on his phone tightens. ‘maybe when all is right, we’ll get to hang out again. just like old times.’

‘i hope so,’ asahi sighs, holding onto a distant memory. kisumi almost wishes he was at his best friend’s side in these moments where he knows asahi’s head is in the clouds. ‘anyway, tell me about this date.’

‘date?! i’m just treating him to dinner for teaching hayato—’

‘yeah, yeah, tell it to the marines.’

‘sheesh, asahi, does it hurt you to listen for once?’

‘i _am_ listening, and i _know_ you’ve had the biggest crush on makoto since middle school. why do you think haru pretended you didn’t exist ninety percent of the time?’

‘it’s nothing like that—’

‘shit, sorry, gotta go.’ kisumi hears rustling on the other end, a thud and a _quiet_ ouch before asahi hurriedly says, ‘my sister’s making me run errands. tell me how it goes, alright? talk to you later!’ and the line abruptly goes dead. he sighs, and with a final tug on his collar, leaves for the restaurant by the docks.

he’s been watching the ebb and flow of the waves along the shore when makoto arrives a panting mess half an hour late. ‘kisumi! sorry for the wait, i had to take an extra shift at the swimming club. one of the coaches called in sick.’

‘it’s alright!’ kisumi brushes off makoto’s apologies, chest oddly hammering with the way his friend brushes back his bangs nonchalantly. he gulps. ‘i-i completely understand, so o-order anything you want. dinner’s on—’ he coughs into his hand, covering his face from makoto’s view with the menu. ‘—on me.’

‘what? i can’t accept that!’

‘i’m forever in your debt for teaching hayato how to swim, and to actually love swimming.’

makoto rubs the back of his neck shyly. ‘it was part of the job.’

‘and you did well. i swear, you’re all he ever talks about,’ kisumi whines, and makoto thinks he looks twelve all over again. ‘coach tachibana this, coach tachibana that. i’ve been replaced!’

makoto laughs with his eyes so green and gentle and full of mirth. ‘c’mon, you know that’s not true.’

‘it is, it is!’ kisumi exclaims, knuckles clenching when he asks about haru. ‘it would be nice to catch up with him, as well.’

‘haru is haru,’ makoto says under his breath, and _ah_ , kisumi sees it immediately—the tenderness in his eyes, the rosiness at the tip of his nose, the soft curl of his lips into a fond smile at merely speaking haru’s name. ‘there’s really nothing more to it, kisumi.’

‘yeah,’ kisumi responds wistfully, but smiles through the brief heartache nonetheless. ‘so… haru, huh?’

makoto turns several shades of red—like asahi’s hair, kisumi thinks—swallowing mouthfuls of his meal as soon as it arrives, as he shares stories both mundane and exciting of their togetherness.

makoto could talk kisumi’s ear off about haru and kisumi would still think he’s beautiful, yet it surprisingly becomes too easy to let makoto go, to just appreciate his friend’s presence and bask in the everglow of his withstanding devotion for haru because kisumi has known all along that makoto was never his to begin with.

 

 

 

 

  
(when he gets home, he tells asahi exactly how it went, how makoto was a sputtering mess of a teenage boy at the mere mention of haru, how _he’s so unbelievably whipped, asahi,_ and he tells his best friend in his sleep-induced state, in a manner so gentle it could pass as a whisper, that he wishes he were here—that he were everywhere.

and asahi tells him, breathless, that he wishes he were, too.)

 

 

 

 

  
iv.

‘you know, you can only fit so much in one box,’ asahi comments amusedly from kisumi’s laptop screen. he watches his friend fuss over his basketball trophies. ‘the movers would probably think twice about bringing it to tokyo—leave those in your room!’

kisumi’s scowl melts into a pout. ‘but they hold good memories!’

‘then make new ones in tokyo! leave them, kisumi.’

‘okay, but i’m not leaving _this_ behind.’ kisumi raises a familiar gold medal to the screen—the very same one asahi won at his first swimming competition while in kazami. he vividly remembers receiving a phone call a couple of summers ago to asahi nearly in tears over his victory. kisumi had cried with him then. ‘this is the most important!’

kisumi turns away to tuck the medal between one of his shirts, missing the way asahi’s mouth opens agape, his cheeks burning at the weight of kisumi’s words. asahi clears his throat. ‘h-how’s hayato?’

‘he’s doing well! he loved the rice cakes you sent the last time, the ones shaped like animals?’

asahi pulls up a photo from weeks ago saved in his phone, of hayato scowling as he struggled to chew. ‘yeah? even if he got some stuck between his teeth?’

‘yes!’ kisumi exclaims, the weak reception doing so little to conceal his obvious delight. ‘he finished half the box by noon. mum was furious, but he was happy. so thank you.’

‘that’s good. anyway, you done packing yet? you should’ve done that last week, talk to me properly!’

‘my, my. you’re unusually clingy today.’

‘geez.’ there is small frown on asahi’s lips when he says, ‘it just feels like we haven’t spoken properly in a while.’

‘i’m sorry.’ to asahi’s relief, kisumi forgoes his chore, and settles in front of the screen with his knees to his chest. ‘we start college soon and things just got a little busier than usual for the both of us.’

‘i know, and i’ve missed you,’ asahi admits with his lip between his teeth. ‘just you, really.’

‘you don’t want our other friends to hear that.’

‘that’s not the point, kisumi.’

kisumi’s head tilts to the side, probing. ‘then what is?’

‘ugh.’ asahi slides a palm down his face. ‘why do you think i chose to keep in touch with only you after i left iwatobi?’

‘uhh. because i wasn’t part of the swimming club?’

‘kisumi.’ asahi is unexplainably exasperated at this point. ‘i swear on all things holy, you are the idiot of all idiots.’

‘i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear that, okay?’ asahi thinks he sees a flash of annoyance flicker across kisumi’s face, as the latter looks away from the camera, face suddenly indifferent. asahi _hates_ the look on him. ’i gotta go. my mom will throw a fit if i don’t finish packing by today. i’ll see you in tokyo in a few weeks…?’

‘yeah,’ asahi grumbles, stealing a glance at his phone wallpaper of him and kisumi with matching finger hearts a year ago, and ends the call without hearing kisumi say goodbye.

 

 

 

 

  
v.

‘heard you got dumped by makoto on your date a week ago.’

‘why do you—it wasn’t a date! they never were!’ kisumi exclaims defensively. the park a block away from café marron is unusually quiet for a weekday afternoon. ‘we still talked about haru. _haru_. makoto just needed advice on something and a little push, to say the least.’

‘c’mon, i’ve always known you’ve got the hots for makoto, kisumi.’ asahi leans against the bench, smile teasing, yet uncharacteristically dim. ‘you can’t lie to me.’

‘uhh—that’s not completely untrue. makoto _is_ a dreamboat. but—’ as if on cue, kisumi’s phone buzzes with a message from makoto— _i’ve told haru! thank you_ , it simply says. he smiles triumphantly to himself, responding with a ton of colorful heart emojis— _i’m happy for you both!_ ‘the pining was obviously mutual, it was getting awfully painful to look at.’

‘oh, so you— _oh_.’

kisumi gives him a look of utter disbelief. ‘did you get that just now? they’ve been at it since middle school!’

‘of course, i did! it’s just—it’s—i mean, _wow_.’

‘right?’ kisumi sighs dreamily into his paper cup. his coffee has gone cold, and it reminded him of the all-nighters he’d pulled writing his term papers with asahi sprawled across his room. ‘makes one long for a love like that.’

asahi raises an eyebrow. ‘have you always been a hopeless romantic?’

‘hmm, why?’ kisumi’s grin turns sly. ‘you think it pathetic?’

‘on the contrary, i think it’s cute.’

‘yeah? tell that to the next person i’ll actually date.’ asahi’s expression hardens, turns into something unreadable and foreign to kisumi. he thinks he sees asahi grit his teeth. ‘what’s with that look?’

asahi stands and looks kisumi in the eye. there is not a hint of humor in his voice when he says, ‘i don’t want you seeing anyone else.’

kisumi stares right back at him, head tilted innocently to the side like he’s trying to decipher a code hidden between asahi’s words. curious, he gets on his feet and levels his gaze with asahi’s, standing much too close for asahi’s liking. ‘what’re you trying to say?’

‘can’t you maybe date me, instead?’ asahi says in one breath, dizzy at the blood rushing to his head. his heart is skipping in beats that leave him breathless and longing for a person who’s right there.

kisumi is dumbfounded, to say the least, but he’s so unbelievably _happy_. ‘say that again. i didn’t quite hear you.’

‘d-don’t make me repeat myself!’

kisumi’s giggles erupt into peals of laughter, and asahi’s gaze doesn’t stray away from the way the receding sunlight is caught in the curves of kisumi’s mouth, in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. when the laughter dies down, asahi stands in complete surrender, tongue-tied before the one he has cherished most all these years.

‘honestly,’ kisumi breaks the silence, and the breath in asahi’s lungs stills. ‘our friends may be better swimmers, but you’ve always been my favorite.’

‘god, i’m _so_ into you,’ asahi whispers with a low chuckle, relieved, leaning his forehead against kisumi’s shoulder like he’s shying away from those familiar purple eyes. ‘that says a lot, doesn’t it?’

‘i guess it does.’ kisumi runs a hand through asahi’s hair in a half embrace, the fiery red a contrast to the setting sun between his fingers. _how long have i waited for this?_ ‘i’ve kept your letters, asahi. all five hundred and seven of them. _that_ says a lot.’

asahi pulls away gently from the touch, face flushed to the tips of his ears as he asks, ‘so, whaddya say? ready to get your feet swept off the ground all over again?’

kisumi laughs then, unbarred and contagiously blissful. he has that stupid smirk, the one that blinded asahi from the start and confused him to no end. ‘you’re an idiot, asahi. always have been.’

‘wha—takes one to know one, _idiot_!’

‘touché,’ kisumi shrugs, amused, and the smile on his face is bright and knowing and asahi’s idea of beautiful. and suddenly it becomes so clear to kisumi the meaning behind sousuke’s smile, the depth of light in haru’s eyes, the dulcet longing in makoto’s voice—the very reason why asahi has kept in touch all this time. it’s been asahi all along. kisumi berates himself for having been ignorant, when asahi all but nudges his cheek with the tip of his nose in quiet greeting. ‘we can be idiots together!’

asahi loops an arm around kisumi’s shoulder, intent on making up for lost time as he pulls him close enough for the first of many kisses. ‘yes, we can.’

**Author's Note:**

> i have never been _this_ emotionally invested in an anime. i'm travelling to iwami, tottori, japan in 2020, and that declaration in itself is a testament to how much i absolutely _love_ 'free!' ('kuroko no basket' comes real close, though). if you happen to watch it, come drop me a message on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ohmyshixun) because even if i talk about exo 90% of the time, i _will_ talk 'free!' with you. 
> 
> and let it be known that this! loser! ships! _makoharu_! more than i would like to admit (although my [tumblr](http://wshxn.tumblr.com) is pretty much full of them lately). just, ugh, need i say more? ♥


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